The Orange Kitchen

This poem will appear in
Pax Americana #9,

Hooray.

The Last Lines

I’m not at death’s door,
but I’m a man on a mission.

I’ll slip the poor some tongue,
then I'll collect my commission.

This spider bite is rife
with types of nuclear fission.

I’m feeling mighty blameless
out by your windowsill.

How Wormholes Are Made

This poem now appears in ditch.

Go to visit ditch, here: http://www1.ditchpoetry.com/ryanbird.htm

No Habeas Corpus For Homo Erectus

MONTREAL, QC -- Yesterday, topflight men's tennis star Raphael Nadal was accused, by authorities of my own creation, of murder. During his semi-final match with Serbian born Novak Djokovic, an unsuspecting fan at the Geico Men’s Invitational Tennis Cup was brutally clubbed about the head, & dragged into the press booth for what eyewitnesses described as "primitive purposes". Local authorities, which were also under my strict narrative control, interviewed no one, yet the miraculously produced a composite sketch of the assailant. Due to outdated caveman prejudices, Mr. Nadal was immediately ascertained & imprisoned without a trial. When reached for comment, Nadal merely grunted & smeared something brown onto the north wall of his cell. “It might be the phrase Habeas Corpus,’ said a Montreal jail guard, “or it might also be a drawing of a wholly mammoth. We’re just not sure.” The accused has since been sentenced to co-star as the kooky, man-crazed neighbour, “Flip” on the zany new ABC sitcom Cavemen.

Daly & the Daylights

This poem shall appear
in the forthcoming pages
of InDigest Magazine.

Hooray.